


Break Your Fall

by CamsthiSky



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Nightwing (Comics), Titans (Comics)
Genre: Best Friends, Drunkenness, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Wally West is a Good Friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-14 00:14:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12995607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CamsthiSky/pseuds/CamsthiSky
Summary: Dick's drunk and Wally takes care of him.





	Break Your Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Anna for donating! Here’s the Dick and Wally content you asked for.

“Woah,” Wally says as he steadies Dick. Dick frowns at him, and that could be because Wally’s scowling at him, or it could be because Dick’s absolutely and completely wasted. It’s been a while since Wally’s seen Dick this smashed. Dick stumbles again, and Wally can’t help it when he holds out his hands and says, “Dick, please. Let me help you.”

Dick shoves away his hands. “I can walk fine, Wally.”

“Riiiiiight,” Wally says, watching as Dick leans against the wall, and then starts sliding down to sit on the floor. It’s hard to believe this guy has been Batman sometimes. Wally crouches next to where Dick’s hiding his face in the wall. “How about I take you home?”

“You’re gonna make me sick.”

Wally shakes his head and gets his arms underneath Dick’s armpits. “I’m not going to carry you. I’m going to walk you home. You know, be a good best friend and all that. Best friends don’t let best friends walk home alone while absolutely plastered. Now come.  _On.”_

Wally grunts as he finally gets Dick into a standing position.

Dick just moans and leans into him. “Noooooo,” Dick tells him. “I like that wall.”

“You’ll like your bed a lot more.”

“I don’ wanna move.”

“Too bad,” Wally says, leading Dick down the street, one arm curled around Dick’s waist, the other keeping Dick’s arm curled around his neck.

It’s peaceful, save for Dick’s occasional muttered nonsense. Especially for Blüdhaven. Wally gets to Dick’s apartment and helps Dick flop onto the couch. Dick murmurs some curse words in a few different languages, but Wally’s eyes only tighten slightly.

“Sit up, Dick. You need some food before you sleep.”

“No,” Dick protests, grabbing the cushion closest to him and shoving his face in it, like that will stop Wally from force feeding Dick. It won’t. “I’m not hungry.”

“And I don’t care,” Wally says, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and holding it out for Dick to take. Dick moves his head away from the offered bottle, even though Wally’s positive that Dick can’t see it. Must be bat-training, or whatever. “Dick, come on. You do  _not_  want to have a hangover tomorrow.”

Reluctantly, Dick lifts his face up from the cushion and takes the water bottle. He sits up cautiously, taking a few sips here and there as Wally makes his way into the kitchen. Wally’s whipped up a couple dozen sandwiches for the both of them in no time, and he plops down on the couch next to Dick a second later.

Dick stares at him, but Wally shrugs it off, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV.

“What’re you doing?”

“Watching a movie,” Wally says easily, shoving a sandwich in Dick’s other hand. When all Dick does is look at it, just a beat too long, Wally’s frown deepens. “Eat it, Dick. It’ll help.”

Dick mumbles something, but he nibbles on the sandwich and Wally takes it as a win. Wally flips through the channels as Dick eats and sips water, finally settling on some cop show that Dick would probably rip apart if he were sober enough. Hell, he could probably rip it apart right  _now._

Wally looks over at Dick, and Dick looks up, feeling his eyes. He holds up the sandwich. “I’m eating.”

“Yeah,” Wally says, “but you’re also drunk. Wanna explain?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Dick mutters, taking a vicious bite of his sandwich.

“Dick, I found you passed out in a bar in the worst part of Blüdhaven. You may be able to pull that crap with Bruce—” Dick flinches, “—but you can’t pull it with me. What? Did you guys have another argument?”

“No,” Dick says, but he’s not looking at Wally, and he sounds a great deal more coherent. Great. He’d been faking before. Probably hadn’t wanted Wally to interrogate him while he was drunk. Well too bad. Wally knows how well Dick can function under the influence. It’d almost be impressive if it weren’t so goddamn scary sometimes. “It’s not like that.”

“Okay,” Wally accepts. “Then tell me what it’s like.”

Dick tenses. He swallows, and repeats, “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Fine,” Wally says. And he leans back into the couch. Turns his attention back to the TV. Ignores Dick’s fidgeting.

It gets like this sometimes. Never this bad, of course, but sometimes Dick has a hard time opening up around him. He’s spent too much time with his family, doing that thing where he hides all his anger and insecurities, so his family doesn’t catch onto it.

It’s stupid, in Wally’s opinion. He thinks that Dick should be just as open with his family as he is with Wally, but Wally can’t force him into anything.

Still, while Dick doesn’t exactly tell him anything and everything—Wally blames Bruce for that one, but there’s nothing anyone can do about it at this point, and Wally loves his best friend, emotionally stunted or not—Dick’s still a bit more open with him. Dick’s told Wally things that he’d admitted he would never tell Bruce unless it was a life or death situation, but when he spends too much time with his family, hiding his negative emotions away from his brothers, he seems to get stuck. Unable to open up to even Wally.

The best thing Wally can do is wait him out. Which he can do. He’s done harder things than watch TV and wait for his best friend to start talking to him.

“Thank you,” Dick finally breathes, slumping sideways into Wally’s shoulder. Wally looks down at him, but Dick’s staring blankly at the TV in front of them.

“Talk to me, Dick.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Not to you,” Wally pushes. Dick’s tense and if Wally didn’t know better, he’d think that Dick looked ready to cry. Or punch something. Or maybe both. There’s a lump in his throat now, and Wally makes an effort to swallow around it. “And not to me, either.”

“I know,” Dick says. And then he buries his face in Wally’s shoulder. “Thank you for being here.”

Wally finally smiles. It’s sad, but it feels better than frowning at his friend who’s so obviously hurting. He feels like he’s made some progress. “Anytime, Dick. You know that.”

“Yeah,” Dick says, and repeats, “I know.”

They sit there for a long time, and Wally waits. Dick will open up eventually, and Wally—well. He can be patient enough until that happens. This is his best friend, after all.


End file.
